Living Fireworks
by SociopathicAngel
Summary: After growing wings and discovering that you were a mutant, you were forced to run away to New York and leave behind everything that you loved: you friends, your family, and your hometown's color guard and marching band. Three years later, you've joined the Avengers and find yourself going to an indoor color guard competition, bringing some of them along for the ride.


Summary: After growing wings and discovering that you were a mutant, you were forced to run away to New York and leave behind everything that you loved: you friends, your family, and your hometown's color guard and marching band. Three years later, you've joined the Avengers and find yourself going to an indoor color guard competition, bringing some of them along for the ride.

 **A/N: Just to warn you all, this fic's universe is nothing like the MCU, although I don't know if you could call it an AU. I'm going to have Loki and Bucky both be living in Stark Tower with everyone else and I'm going to act as if they joined the Avengers shortly after the battles that they had with the Avengers. Sam will also be living in the tower as well. I am also going to completely ignore any new characters that were introduced in Age of Ultron and beyond. If I were to add everyone new from that movie onwards, I would have far too many characters to work with. I hope that you all enjoy the fic! Reviews are greatly appreciated. :) (Also, the thing with Tony's hair was inspired by "With Friends like These" by inactivatedaccount. It's complete and it is AMAZING, so go check it out as soon as you're done reading this! You won't be sorry that you did, I promise! Also, the video that I used for the performance can be found by searching for "2016 Classics A Wildwood Finals" on YouTube. The group isn't from New York and I don't think that the Tournament Indoor Association is from there either, but I saw the group in person and they were amazing, so go check them out as well!)**

Despite what others might tell you, growing wings, gaining the ability to fly without any gadgets or gizmos, and acquiring enhanced hearing and sight is quite possibly the worst thing that can happen to a person.

Or at least, it was for you. After all, when one finds out that they are a mutant, it isn't all rainbows and sunshine.

You were shunned by your classmates in a matter that you found to be very racist. They would call you a chicken, ask if you ate worms, and pluck out your beautiful snowy-owl-like plumage. Your family grew awkward around you, treading as if they were on a very thin sheet of ice that could crack if they made a single wrong move. Eventually, that caution gave way to disgust and contempt, forcing you to spend every moment that you could away from the house. Even your closest friends began to find excuses to stay away from you.

Your biggest grievance, however, was your inability to continue your participation in your school's winter guard group. In the summer and fall, you played an alto saxophone in the marching band, but during the winter, you spun flags (Yes, it's called spinning, not twirling. Twirling is for _twirlers_. There's a difference.), rifles, and sabers. You danced and jumped and leaped, racing back and forth across a gymnasium floor and tossing flags to such dizzying heights that even the great Captain America would have hesitated to catch them. You would spend hundreds of hours practicing your routine, running through it again and again, striving for perfection. All of this had to come to an end once you realized that color guard and wings do not mix. Every time you went to pass a flag behind your back or do a simple flourish, your wings would get painfully in the way. You couldn't even get into your uniform. Eventually, your instructor simply told you to stop coming to practices. That was the last straw. Finally, you decided to end it.

Oh, don't look so shocked. I don't mean _end it_ end it. I don't think that you would have the courage to do something like that even if you wanted to.

No, at the age of eighteen, just a week before your nineteenth birthday, you left your home in suburban Pennsylvania. You cut off every single tie that you had with your friends and family. You shoved some changes of clothes and provisions into a simple backpack that you could wear in front where it wouldn't be in the way of your wings. As you flew soundlessly north, your biggest regret was having to leave your beautiful black alto sax, with its golden carvings of flowers that curled around its bell. Its weight would have made it impossible to fly with, so you had to abandon it in your room, nestled securely in its usual place beside your bed.

After a day or two of flight, you finally arrived in New York. You had figured when you started your journey that New York City would be the safest place for you to live. The buildings were tall, allowing for easy take-off. It was also the Avenger's home town, so what did it matter if another super-powered wierdo showed up? As long as you didn't cause any trouble, you'd be fine. Plus, after all the things you'd heard about the strange, costumed people that populated the streets of the City of Lights, you figured that no one would look twice at a winged teenager wandering around.

Your first night in the bustling city, you found a nice roof with several taller buildings around it, sheltering your temporary home from the wind. You found some only slightly musty overcoats in a Salvation Army dumpster and quickly made yourself a nest to curl up in for the night. The traffic noise was more irritating to your enhanced hearing than it would be to a normal person, and you went sleepless for what felt like an eternity. You stared up at the few stars that were visible in the bright night sky, missing the extensions of yourself that had allowed you to pour your heart and soul out in great rushes of expression: your saxophone and flags.

Finally, after several minutes of humming your favorite stand tunes, you finally managed to fall asleep.

That is, until the scream of police sirens rushing by below jolted you from your slumber.

You peered over the edge of your roof, curious as to the source of the commotion. Only a block away, the cars pulled up in front of an open bank. As the police cars' head lights illuminated the scene, you could easily make out the figure of a man stepping through the open doors, a handgun held to the head of a frightened woman. She stumbled along, tripping over her high heels as the man tightened his arm around her throat. He screamed at the cops, who by then had their weapons drawn, and you doubted that you would have even needed your special hearing to make out his words.

"Everyone back up! I said BACK!" You heard the girl whimper in fear. "Alright, now nobody make a move, or I swear to _god_ , I _will_ shoot her!"

The police men reluctantly held their fire as the man backed towards an alley to the right of the bank, his eyes moving constantly from one officer to the next.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you had jumped off the roof, your owl-like wings carrying you silently and swiftly towards the altercation. Finally, when you were almost right on top of them, you swooped down, snatching the poor girl into the air as she let out a terrified shriek. The gunman was too shocked to fire a single round until you had landed behind the line of officers, who were all staring at you in fear and confusion. When the gunman finally regained his senses enough to try and make a break for it, shooting wildly behind him, several guns went off, riddling his body with holes.

"Are you alright?" you asked the woman as she sat down hard on the ground, shaking. It took a while for her to answer, but she finally found the words.

"Yes, I'll be okay." She briefly gripped your hand. "Thank you."

The officers has begun to approach you by then and you thought it best to take your leave. You gave her a small, kind smile before jumping onto the roof of a nearby parked car and pushing off, flapping your wings as several men behind you yelled for you to wait. You quickly flew up and out of sight before circling around to your roof. You plopped down on your nest and attempted to fall back asleep, but it wasn't to be. From the other side of the roof, you heard a whoosh and a clunk, as if someone had thrown a rock at a solid piece of iron. You sat completely still, hoping that it might have just been an incredibly obese pigeon. Your hopes were dashed when you heard loud, clanking footsteps approaching your nest.

You shot up from you resting place, snatched up your backpack, and were about to jump off the roof again without even a glance behind you when a slightly muffled voice cried out.

"Wait! Hold on." You froze, recognizing the voice from news shows that you had watched only several days before then. You slowly turned, careful to stay near the edge of the roof. You wanted to be able to escape quickly if the need arose. Although, you doubted that you would ever be able to outfly this man.

Standing just a few feet in front of you was Iron Man himself.

He held his hands out, palms down in an attempt to not aim his repulsors at you while still appearing non-threatening. His face plate slid smoothly up and out of the way to reveal a slightly concerned expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you, just… don't jump. Please." He took a few steps back, giving you space.

You peered at him curiously. You didn't know why he was there, but you didn't feel as threatened now that you knew who he was. This man was a hero. You doubted that he would hurt you.

"Why would you care if I jumped?" you asked, tilting your head inquisitively. "It's not like I would die." You fanned your wings out slightly to demonstrate, your feathers ruffling pleasantly in a slight breeze.

Iron Man's eyes flew to the snowy appendages, his breath catching in his throat. Sure, he had seen a lot of things in his time as an Avenger and Sam's wings were pretty impressive, but he had never seen anything quite like this before. The wings weren't just being controlled by you, they _were_ you. Every time you shifted or moved, the wings responded, ruffling and shifting along with you. Whenever a gust of wind blew by, they would puff up, like a finch or sparrow would if it were trying to stay warm. These wings, however, were _definitely_ not those of a mere sparrow. The only bird that Tony could think of to compare them to would be a snowy owl. The wings were pure white, like freshly fallen snow, with thin black bands running horizontally across them. They were regal, strong, beautiful, powerful, everything that a bird of prey should be. The only word that Tony could think of at that moment, however, was breathtaking.

"I… I know," he said, stumbling slightly over his words as his usual snarky façade slipped even farther than it already had. "I believe you. I just want to talk."

You hesitated, still slightly suspicious. "Why? About what?"

"I was on my way to the robbery when I saw you save that woman. That was very brave of you. Very _Captain America_." He grinned, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of a stairwell. His care-free attitude slid back into place as if it had never been gone in the first place.

You shrugged, slightly uncomfortable under such praise. "I didn't really think about it. It just happened."

The billionaire hummed, deep in thought. "Let's see," he mumbles, still loud enough for even a normal person to have heard him easily. "Selfless act of bravery. Check. Lack of arrogance. Check." He ticks off each attribute on his metal fingers. "Freakin' awesome superpower." He glanced at your wings, amused to find a light blush spreading over your cheeks. After so many months of ridicule and bullying, you were unsure of how to react when someone actually _liked_ your wings. "Check. Have you ever thought of becoming a superhero?"

The question caught you off guard and for a few moments, all you could do was stare at the man, your mouth slightly open in shock. He smirked, still leaking against the wall as he waited for you to answer.

Finally, you regained the use of your tongue. "I'm sorry sir, but… I'm not a hero. Literally _anybody_ would have done what I did if given the chance."

"I highly doubt that," he countered.

You ignored the interruption, forging ahead. "And besides, even if I could be a hero, I don't think that I would want to. I want to live my own life without having to worry about supervillains and bank robberies and press conferences…" You trailed off, fiddling with the backpack in your hands as you worried that you had offended the hero, but Mr. Stark didn't look offended. He simply nodded.

"It's your choice," he agreed. "Believe me, I wasn't too keen on the idea when it was first suggested to me, either, but look where I am now," he said, spreading his armored hands. "I'm not saying that it's a walk in the park, but you meet some pretty amazing people." He suddenly smirked mischievously. "And the parties can be highly entertaining. Have you ever seen a drunk superhero?"

You grinned back at him, rearranging your wings as you subconsciously ruffled them against the wind.

"I'll think on it, Mr. Stark," you said with a small, grateful chuckle.

"Please, call me Tony," he responded, stepping forward and extending his hand. You stepped forward hesitantly and shook it, slightly surprised by the almost gentle grip, which seemed to clash with the cold, hard metal in your hand. "You know where to find us if you ever change your mind." You nodded and stepped back as the billionaire, playboy, philanthropist's faceplate slid back into place and his repulsors carried him into the sky. Within a few seconds, he was out of sight and you were left to ponder the unexpected proposition.

The next morning, you woke up to find huge sleeping bag draped over you, easily big enough for both you and your wings to fit inside if the bag were to be zipped shut. You shifted, slightly confused, and that was when you found the thousand dollars tucked under your arm in a ziplock bag.

"Okay, now you're just bribing me," you laughed as you tucked the money into your bag, already planning how to spend it.

''''''''''''''''''''

A few days later, Tony could be found in his lab, fixing his suit after their most recent battle. Who knew that a giant rabbit could cause so much damage? All throughout the aftermath, he had made Easter Bunny references and egg puns to his heart's content. He chuckled as he recalled how Clint had almost shot him after what seemed like his hundredth joke. His only response had been to tweak Clint's bowstring and tell him to not be so high-strung. That hadn't gone over well. He had doubted that he would ever get the scorch marks out of his suit.

He was just making the final adjustments when Jarvis interrupted him in the middle of his last screwdriver twist.

"Sir, it seems that we have an intruder on the roof. I have already alerted Captain Rodgers and Agents Romanov and Barton to the situation and they are on their way there now."

Tony grinned, hopped up with child-like glee, and hurried towards to nearest elevator.

"Belay that, Jar! I know exactly who it is," he called as he got into the elevator. "Tell the others to wait for me at the door to the roof. I don't want them scaring our visitor off."

"They're waiting for you now, sir. I've also took the liberty of informing our guest that we would be coming to them."

"Thanks, Jarvis. I pale at the thought of what I would do without you."

"Of course, sir."

When Tony finally arrived a minute later, the others possessed identical expressions of mixed confusion and curiosity.

"Who's on the roof, Tony?" Steve asked as he slung his shield onto his back over his usual plain t-shirt.

"Remember the girl with the wings that I told you about?"

"You're kidding," Clint accused with a grin. "You think that she actually accepted?"

"Well, who else would be able to get to our roof without using the elevators, Katniss?" Tony inquired with a smirk, his eyebrow quirked at a questioning angle.

"Well, let's not keep her waiting," Nat said as she pushed open the door and stepped out into the bright sunlight, quickly followed by her fellow Avengers.

What they saw on the other side took their breath away.

Standing on the other side of the roof was a girl that looked to be in her late teens, with (h/l),(h/c) hair and startling (e/c) eyes that seemed as if they could pierce a person's very soul. Over her shoulders, they could see the tops of two fluffy, blindingly white wings. Judging from their size, they had an even bigger wingspan that Sam's wings.

Natasha and the others wished that they could see them fully extended, but as soon as you heard them coming up the stairs, you had pulled them in as tightly as possible and clutched your backpacks straps tightly in your left hand. You wouldn't dare swing it at these people, but the hefty weight in your hands helped you to stay calm. Despite Mr. Starks's favorable reaction to your unusual appendages, you could never be sure of how others would react. These people, despite hearing about them constantly on the news, were strangers to you. Even Mr. Stark had only had a short conversation with you and probably didn't even know your name. It would take a while before you could gain enough confidence to casually and openly display your wings around these people.

Mr. Stark quickly stepped forward from the small group, extending his hand as he approached you. His wide, genuine grin prompted your own lips to curl upwards as well. You clasped his hand firmly, amazed at the large, rough callouses that covered his fingers. They definitely weren't the hands of your garden variety pampered billionaire.

"Ah, you made it! Excellent! We're glad that you could join us Miss…" Mr. Stark trailed off, slightly embarrassed to realized that he didn't even know your name.

"(l/n)," you said with a light laugh. "(f/n) (l/n). Listen, Mr. Stark-"

"Call me Tony," he interrupted.

"Okay. Listen…Tony, I still don't know if I'm cut out to be a part of the whole superhero business, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Just… don't be disappointed if I turn out to not be superhero material."

"I saw you snatch a hostage right out of the hands of an armed robber. That man had a gun, but you threw yourself in harm's way without a second's hesitation. If that isn't superhero material, then I have no clue as to what is, even with my sizeable intellect. Anyhow, it's good to have a name to put to the face. Speaking of names, I believe that introductions are in order." He waved the other Avengers forward, pointing to each as he introduced them. "The man with the over-sized Frisbee on his back is Steve, Robin Hood over here responds to the name Clint, and this amazing, beautiful woman is Natasha." He knew better than to use sarcasm when introducing Natasha, a lesson that he had learned long ago through very painful means.

"Tony, you're making me blush," Natasha said, a slight smile coloring her face. "Call me Nat," she added as she extended her hand, shaking your own in a firm grip. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," you replied, slightly flustered at meeting so many heroes at once. You jump when Tony suddenly slung and arm around your shoulders and began to lead you towards to doors that they had emerged from minutes before.

"Come on, let me introduce you to everyone else. Then, we can get down to talking about the whole superhero business."

Within ten minutes, everyone had congregated in the lounge area of the communal floor. Tony had explained the layout of the tower during the elevator ride there and after having grown up in a medium-sized town where almost none of the buildings exceeded four floors, you were shocked by the sheer scale of the place. Below the communal floor, which had a game room, movie theatre, lounge area, and kitchen, among other things, there was a floor dedicated to training, with a sparring area, gym, and shooting range. Beneath that were about eighty floors of offices for Stark employees. Above the communal area were nine floors of Avengers living space, one for each occupant, minus Tony; he lived in the penthouse. Between the penthouse and the other living floors was a floor dedicated entirely to lab space for Tony and Dr. Banner. Once it was discovered that Loki was under the Chitauri's mind control in the battle for New York, a section of the floor was also dedicated to magical experimentation. Loki had brought over several pieces of equipment from Asgard and Tony had assured you that he had absolutely _no_ idea how any of them works, although he was trying to learn through observation.

When the final occupant of the tower shambled in, a man with shaggy hair and a metal arm that you recognized as the person that the Avengers had recently rescued from Hydra's control, Tony finally got down to introducing everyone from his position next to you on the couch, utilizing the same sarcasm that he had used on the roof. Natasha and Clint, who were seated next to you, simply shook their heads at their friend's antics. You smiled, setting your backpack carefully on the floor between your feet.

"Well, you already know Capsicle, Bird Boy, and Natasha, and I'm assuming you recognize Goldilocks over there, as he's one of our more recognizable faces," he pointed to Thor, who was standing with his arms crossed behind one of the comfy sofas that were positioned around the room. In the bright sunlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you could see the vast city below you.

"You might know the man who looks as if he just rolled out of bed by his bigger, greener form, but when he isn't hulking out, we call him Bruce." He points to a man in gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with a rat's nest of curly, graying hair. He gives you a tentative wave and a nervous smile, which you quickly return with your own.

"The man to my left is my good friend Rhode, although you might know him as War Machine."

"It's nice to meet you." He said as he reached over him arm rest to shake your hand. "Tony told us about what you did. I have to say, I'm impressed."

"Thanks," you said as you firmly shook his hand, blushing slightly. You could never had expected that once simple act could catch the attention of such an important group of people.

"Tall, dark, and terrifying on the couch next to Capsicle is Sargent James Buchanan Barnes," Tony continued, "although he usually goes by the name Bucky." He gave you a soldier-like nod, glancing quickly at your wings in curiosity, which you pulled in closer to your back out of self-consciousness. Of course, he immediately noticed this and the corner of his mouth curled up in a small, kind smile. He tapped his metal arm as if to say, ' _Don't worry, I'm different, too._ ' You returned his smile, nodding gratefully as you once again relaxed your wings. The silent exchange didn't go unnoticed by the others, but they all elected to let it go unmentioned. Bucky rarely had people that he could relate with and this had been the first time that he had seemed to immediately take to a total stranger.

"Bird Boy 2.0 on Cap's other side is Sam. His wings are currently in his rooms, but he should be happy to finally have someone else to race with other than Cap."

The dark skinned man gave Tony a withering look, but his features quickly morphed as he gave you a welcoming smile.

"I look forward to seeing what you can do, although I highly doubt that you could outfly me," he boasted with a challenging grin.

"We'll see about that," you shot back with a matching grin.

Tony barked out a laugh before motioning to the final occupant. "And finally, Mr. BDSM on the couch in front of Thor is Loki. Don't let the cold demeanor frighten you, he's really a teddy bear once you get to know him." Tony grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at the leather-clad man with a smirk.

Loki maintained his thoughtful silence as he arched a frigid eyebrow at Tony and calmly snapped his fingers. Immediately, raucous laughter burst forth from everyone, including you, as Tony's hair turned an alarming shade of pink. Loki simply regally sat on the couch, a slight smile touching his lips as he observed his handiwork.

"What? What happened? What did he do? Did he give me a unibrow again?" Tony yelled, frantically feeling his forehead

Loki calmly waved his hand and a small mirror immediately appeared in midair in front of Tony. Tony simply stared, his mouth slightly open as everyone's laughter died down to the occasional chuckle.

"Change it. Now," Tony demanded, not taking his eyes off of his reflection.

"The spell will wear off eventually," Loki replied in his smooth voice, still smiling. "Maybe if you begged, it would return to its normal color at a quicker rate." He waved his hand again and the mirror dissipated into smoke.

"Bruce," he pleaded, turning to his friend, "help me out here, buddy."

"Sorry, Tony, I don't want to scare our guest. The other guy is staying right where he is." Bruce smiled, enjoying his friend's desperation maybe a bit too much.

Tony glanced around at everyone else, but they all shook their heads with large grins occupying their faces, unable to help.

Tony sighed in resignation. "Fine, Loki", he held his hands clasped in front of him, " _please_ return my hair to its usual color. I really don't want to look like this for the next few days."

Loki nodded regally. "I deem your pleading passable. It will return to normal within the hour."

Tony opened his mouth, prepared to argue for a shorter sentence, but a sharp look from Natasha stopped him.

"Tony, you still haven't introduced our guest to everyone," she said sweetly, her voice containing the sharp edge of a slight threat.

Tony paled slightly and nodded, sweeping his hand towards you.

"Everyone, this is (f/n) (l/n)."

You gave a little smile and nod. "It's nice to meet you all."

"Where you from, (f/n)," Sam asked as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Pennsylvania. I lived in a medium sized suburban town, which was absolutely nothing like New York," you said with a laugh. "I still can't believe all the noise."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," Steve responded, wearing a smile identical to Bucky's as they both recalled their Brooklyn days, when the streets hadn't been quite so loud.

"I hope so," you sighed. "I barely got any sleep my first night here, although that sleeping bag did help a lot, Tony. Thank you. I have no idea what I would have done without that money, either."

"My pleasure," he said, waving his hand in an _'it was nothing'_ gesture. "If you end up staying here, I'll of course be paying for your room and board because I'm apparently everyone's personal bank account." He gave his friends a severe look, sighing dramatically.

They all, of course, completely ignored him.

"Miss (l/n), would you mind telling me how old you are?" Steve asked, slightly uncomfortable. Even with his limited knowledge of women, he still knew that that could sometimes be a sensitive question.

"I don't mind, Captain Rodgers. And you can call me (f/n) if you'd like."

He smiled. "Well, in that case, call me Steve."

You smiled back, nodding. "I turned nineteen the day before yesterday."

He blinked, surprised. Sure, you looked young, but he had been thinking mid-twenties, not late teens.

"Where is your family, Lady (f/n)?" Thor inquired, his deep voice practically vibrating the air around you.

"Sir, I'm nineteen. I don't need parental supervision anymore," you responded, suddenly closed off and on the defense. These people were _not_ going to send you back there. You would fight tooth and nail to keep from seeing your parents' disgusted faces again. Everyone else noticed your change in posture and tone as your wings, which had only just relaxed, suddenly tensed, flaring outwards slightly in an unconscious show of fearful aggression.

"You parents were unable to appreciate your gifts," Loki suddenly deduced with an angry countenance.

The declaration was so sudden that for several seconds, all you could do was stare at him, startled. Finally, you shook yourself out of your daze, clearing your throat as you looked down at your lap.

"Yes, you could say that," you responded. You didn't know why you said what you did next. Maybe it was because these people didn't stare at you, except in curiosity. Or maybe because they had treated you nicer on their first day knowing you than your closest friends had after having been acquainted for years. Or maybe, it was simply because they made you feel safe. "When I first grew my wings, they tried to sue the hospital where I had been delivered. They said…" you paused, trying to calm yourself before continuing. "They said that I was a mistake." You voice was barely above a whisper as you bit your lip, trying not to come undone in front of a group of people that you had known for barely an hour. You were forced to look up, however, when Bucky finally spoke into the silence.

"Fuck em'." Your head whipped up to stare at him, mouth slightly open in shock. The others, including Steve, although he did look slightly perturbed, nodded. Everyone's backs had become rigid with anger. Most of them had experience with abuse in one form or another and none of them would stand for it.

"Lady (f/n), for once I am in complete agreement with my crass companion," Loki agreed. "I have seen much in my journey through the nine realms and met many ignorant people, my brother foremost among them, but any individual who has the audacity to be ashamed of such beauty dwarfs all of the stupidity that I have endured a hundred times over."

You blushed violently, unable to form a single word as you stared at the silver-tongued god, whose face was plastered with a smug smirk. Everyone else grinned, delighted by the redness that was spreading across your face.

"Yes, yes, score one for Loki, the smooth-talking chick magnet," Sam said, rolling his eyes at the god.

Loki arched his brow at the man, considering him with a slightly bored expression. "Would you like a makeover as well, my friend? It can certainly be arranged."

Sam paled. "No, I'm good, thanks. Maybe some other time." Thor chuckled from his position behind Loki, completely unaware that Loki had turned his eyebrows blue at some point when no one was looking.

"Thank you, Loki," you said as you finally regained control of your voice. "And you, too, Bucky," you added, looking at the disheveled man. "Those are probably the nicest things that anybody has ever said to me." Loki nodded regally and Bucky simply smirked.

"But seriously, (f/n)," Clint said from the other side of your couch as he leaned forward to see around Natasha, "we aren't going to send you home if you don't want to go there. _No one_ should have to deal with that kind of crap from their parents. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually agree with Loki for once. Your wings are awesome."

"Thank you," you responded, immensely relieved.

"Speaking of your wings," Bruce said, leaning forward, "could we maybe… see them?" he asked tentatively. You could see the scientific, curious gleam in his eyes as he glanced over your shoulder, but you weren't afraid anymore. These people had more than earned a look at your wings.

You nodded, standing and moving around to the back of the couch so that no one would get a face-full of feathers. You quickly checked to ensure that you had enough room and slowly extended your wings until they were completely unfurled on either side of you. Everyone caught their breath, amazed. They had known that your wings were big, but they didn't realize that they were _this_ big. Your wings, for lack of a better word, were massive. Bruce did a quick visual scan and estimated that they were about fifteen feet from wing-tip to wing-tip, more than twice your height. Despite his obstructed view, Bruce thought that your wings must be attached directly over your shoulder blades. Your primaries were easily as big as his forearm, if not bigger, and look exactly like a snowy owl's would. The very bottoms of your wings reached all the way down to your hips. Bruce slowly stood and approached you, watching as you shifted your wings self-consciously.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to your left wing. You hesitated for a second, nodded, and tentatively moved your left wing towards him. He reached out, carefully feeling along the top of your wing. "Incredible," he murmured, gently moving a few of your feathers aside to look at the tissue under them. Your wing jerked, causing him to hastily step back.

"I am so sorry!" he apologized. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, sorry, Dr. Banner," you replied with a laugh as you loosely folded your wings. "It tickled, that's all." Bruce looked a bit sheepish, but managed to tell you to call him Bruce before returning to his seat. You returned to your own as well as Tony spoke up.

"So you have complete feeling in and control over your wings?" he asked. The idea of having two extra appendages still amazed him.

You nodded. "As easily as you control your own arms."

Rhode leaned around Tony to peer at you. "Not that the wings aren't really cool. They're amazing, in fact, but I was just wondering if you had any additional abilities. If you're going to be joining us, we'll need to know everything that could help us in combat."

You tilted your head slightly in a bird-like gesture, smiling proudly. You always loved to show off, whether you were demonstrating an advanced flag toss or showing your friends how you could tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue. "Yes, actually. I can hear Thor's heart beat from over here and I just saw a cab almost run over a pedestrian a few blocks from here. It was the pedestrian's fault, by the way. He didn't even look up from his phone before crossing the street," you replied with a smirk, glancing first at the god, then out the window.

"Enhanced sight and hearing," Clint supplied, "Nice!"

Tony grinned. "I think that you'll fit in just fine."

''''''''''''''''''''

You hum thoughtfully as you examine the paper on the stand in front of you, your saxophone hanging limply from your neck strap as you quickly look over the music, noting key and tempo changes so that they won't surprise you. Turning your attention back to the beginning of the song, your raise your instrument to your lips and launched into the opening bars of _Carry on My Wayward Son_. You had been watching _Supernatural_ with Clint and Nat in your free time between missions and you had already formed an emotional attachment to the song. As you cut off the final note, clapping erupted from the doorway behind you, causing you to flare your wings in alarm and send the music scattering to the floor. You whirl around to find Bucky leaning against the door frame, grinning happily at your reaction.

"Nice playing," he says as he enters the room and plops down on your king-sized bed. You had protested when Tony first bought it for you, but you quickly shut up once you realized that its unnecessary size allowed you to stretch your wings out a bit without them falling off the bed. There is nothing worse than waking up with a wing that is sore from being in a cramped position the entire night. Other than the monstrosity, as you had dubbed it, and the huge windows overlooking lower Manhattan, your room is fairly normal, if not a bit larger than the average teenage bedroom. You hadn't gotten an entire floor like the others, due to Tony's inability to add an entirely new floor to the building and your refusal to have an entire floor to yourself. That would be way too much space for you and it seemed like it would be sort of lonely, so Tony simply gave you a large room on the communal floor, as far away from the game room as possible so that the others' late night battles won't wake you. The walls are covered in posters depicting your favorite TV shows and movies, such as the Hobbit, Supernatural, Sherlock, and NCIS. Your desk in the corner also holds several pieces of fandom merch, mostly Pop! vinyl figures of your favorite characters. You even have a few of the Avengers! There are also several bookshelves placed around the room, stuffed with books on monsters, magic, birds, and cooking, as well as a ton of fantasy, sci-fi, and mystery novels. You had amassed quite the library in the three years since your first arrival at the tower.

"Thanks," you reply as you careful disassemble the beautiful black saxophone and lovingly place it back in its case, scooping up the fallen music in the process. The week you moved into the tower, Loki found out about your missing instrument. You hadn't seen your parents' faces when Loki had suddenly appeared in your former living room and demanded for them to give him your baby, but he had assured you that they had been sufficiently shocked and fearful. "How long have you been standing there?" you ask. "Because I had my back to the door a few minutes ago when I was changing my shirt. You weren't watching me then, were you?" Of course, you know that he had only arrived just before you started playing, but you don't see any harm in teasing him.

"And what if I was? You gonna punish me?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He laughs, dodging the bobble-headed miniature of himself that you chuck at his head.

"Pervert!" you laugh as you walk over to the bed, scooping up the mini-Bucky and setting him on the night stand before climbing onto the bed next to the full-sized version.

"What's up?" you ask as you cross your legs in front of you, allowing your wings to hang limply behind you and rest on the bare sheets. You had given up on blankets long ago, as they only managed to painfully rub your feathers the wrong way in the middle of the night.

Bucky turns to face you, mirroring your posture.

"You said the other week that you were in a color guard when you were in high school, right?"

Your head tips to the side as you wonder where this conversation could be going. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well…" He grins, whipping out his phone and turning it to face you. "I found something that might interest you."

You take the phone, curiously examining the webpage on the screen. When you realize what you're looking at, you bounce up and down in excitement and your wings flap enthusiastically, almost buffeting Bucky right off the side of the bed before he is able to grip your sheets with his bionic arm.

"Oh my god! It's next week! This is awesome, I can't wait! Thank you, Bucky!" You stand and hug him, both with your arms and your wings. Bucky's eyes widen as he is suddenly encased in snowy plumage. However, this kind of behavior has become almost common, so he quickly recovers from his surprise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your middle to return the gesture. It had taken you a while to warm up to the others, but once you had, they had discovered that human contact, which you had been deprived of for many, many months, was a necessity for you. Everyone else had been a bit confused when you would suddenly lean against their side during a movie or lay your hand on their shoulder as you walked up to the breakfast table in the morning. Once everyone realized that you weren't, in fact, hitting on anyone, they quickly accepted the strange, but not unwelcome behavior for what it was: you being you. Bucky gives you a slight squeeze and you release him, folding your wings loosely behind your back.

"How did you find out that there's a color guard competition coming up?" you ask, handing his phone back to him. He smirks as he slides it back into his pocket, shrugging.

"I have my sources," he says mysteriously. Actually, he had seen a sign for it that morning when he had been on his usual run with Steve. He had immediately thought of you, remembering how you had proudly described your old group and the shows that you had performed.

"Mmm hmm, yeah," you respond, rolling your eyes at your friend's cryptic answer. "Would you like to come with me?" You look at him hopefully, your wings puffing up slightly. You had told your friends about color guards before and shown them videos, but _nothing_ beats seeing one perform in person. It's something that you would love to share with your friends.

He looks at your strangely. "Well of course I'm coming, sweetheart."

You grin. "Great! I'll ask the others if they'd like to come, too. Clint and Nat are on a long-term mission, Thor's gone back to visit Asgard for a month, Rhode's been asked to train some air force recruits for the next week or two, and Bruce is on a trip to Africa with a medical group, but I'll ask the others. Hey Jarvis, where are Steve, Tony, Sam, and Loki at the moment?" you ask, addressing the empty ceiling.

"Sir and Mr. Laufeyson are in the lab and Captain Rodgers and Airman Wilson are in the gym," the Ai responds. "Would you like me to inform them that you are looking for them?"

"No, it's okay, Jarvis. Thanks."

"You are welcome."

You give Bucky one last hug and thank him again before hurrying off to find the others.

Bucky watches you go and shakes his head in exasperation. He had been trying to ask you out on a date, but you obviously hadn't gotten the memo. He sighs in resignation as he walks back out into the hall just in time to see the elevator doors closing behind you. He'll at least get to spend some time with you and he can always try again later. He can be patient. After all, he is a sniper.

You take the elevator down a floor and step out into the training area. A sparring mat and a boxing area stand in front of you as you first enter the floor. The floor also has a pool, which you can see off to the right through a glass partition, a shooting range with moving targets at different distances, a gymnastics area, and every piece of exercise equipment imaginable. It's a bodybuilder's heaven. After you officially joined the team, Tony had also offered to take advantage of the high ceiling and create an obstacle course for you, but you had declined, saying that you preferred to fly outside instead of in an enclosed space.

You waltz over to the sparing mat and watch as Sam and Steve attempt to kick the shit out of each other. Sam may not be a super soldier, but he seems to be holding his own. Steve feints with his left, then continues the motion around as he whips his foot towards Sam's head. Sam easily turns, dodging the kick before aiming a punch at Steve's ribs. Steve blocks and Sam is forced to go on the defensive as Steve comes at him with a flurry of punches and jabs. You shake your head in wonder. The super soldiers' speed and precision never ceases to amaze you, even after three years of fighting alongside him.

"Hey, (f/n)," Sam calls, his breathing labored as he aims another punch at Steve. "Want to go a few rounds once we're done?" he asks just as Steve flips up and over his head.

"Ballerina," Sam mutters as he whips around and continues to dodge and watch for openings in his opponent's defenses. There aren't many.

"It's better than you could ever manage, Wilson," you call with a smirk. "Didn't you almost crash into a billboard advertising Viagra the last time we raced?"

"Hey, you're the one who dive bombed me, you crazy kamikaze pigeon," he shoots back, grinning as he dodges another kick. "I would have won if you hadn't pulled that stunt."

"Right," you reply, rolling your eyes, "and Loki isn't a liar. In answer to your question, I'm good. I actually came down here to ask if you guys would like to come with me to a color guard competition next Saturday."

Steve suddenly swipes his foot out, knocking Sam to the mat, fist cocked to deliver a deadly punch that he would never willingly throw.

"Focus," is all he says as he pulls Sam to his feet, shaking his head wryly. Sam simply scowls at him before turning to you.

"Yeah, you know that I'd love to see what you used to do." You grin and turn to Steve, giving him your best pleading face.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. It's not like I would have said no anyways. It sounds like it'll be fun."

Your grin grows even wider. "You can bet your shield it will! I'm going up to the labs to see if Tony or Loki would like to go as well, so I'll see you guys later."

"You sure you don't want to spar, (f/n)?" Sam calls after your retreating figure.

You briefly turn to face them, continuing to move towards the elevator as a smirk spreads across your face.

"Don't you think you've had your ass kicked enough today, Wilson?" you ask as you turn back around and step into the elevator.

"Ha ha, very funny. Everyone's a comedian," he calls back, shaking his head as the elevator doors slide closed.

The elevator stops on the lab floor and as soon as the doors start to slide open, thick, luminescent green smoke surges through. You yelp as the green tsunami pours over you. You quickly flap your wings in the limited space available to you in an attempt to blow the smoke away, but it barely seems to be affected. Wherever it touches you, your skin tingles, but not in an uncomfortable way. You suddenly feel energized and refreshed, as if you just had the most wonderful night's sleep ever.

"How the hell do we get rid of it?" you hear Tony whine from somewhere in the room in front of you. "I want to get back to work."

"I am sorry, my friend," you hear Loki reply. "I can do nothing at the moment. We will simply have to wait until it dissipates on its own."

"Loki? Tony?" you call as you slowly make your way into the room with your wings plastered to your back and your hands out in front of you. "What the hell happened in here?"

"Ah, Lady (f/n)," Loki's disembodied voice replies from somewhere in front of you and to your right. "One of my experiments have backfired. I was attempting to create an energy potion, but it spontaneously combusted, producing this smoke. It should be thinning out soon."

Sure enough, as soon as he says that, the smoke begins to thin, allowing you to see the tables and equipment in your immediate vicinity. You continue to make your way towards where you believe the others to be and by the time you finally reach them, it has thinned to a heavy haze. They both appear to be unharmed, although Loki's skin seems to be a bit greener than usual.

"So, (f/n), what brings you to the labs? You usually don't come up here. Did Sam run into a billboard again? Because Bruce isn't here to patch him up."

"No, nothing like that," you reply. "I was actually wonder if either of you would like to come with Steve, Bucky, Sam, and me to a color guard competition next week."

"On what day is it?" Loki asks.

"Saturday," you reply. "Come on, please? It'll be fun!" you plead.

Loki smirks. "I can never resist a beautiful woman when she begs. I will gladly come with you."

You force yourself to not blush and instead smirk back, shaking your head. "What about you, Tony?" you ask, turning to the billionaire.

"I will cancel all my meetings," Tony replies, waving a screwdriver in a grand gesture.

"You always cancel your meetings, Stark," you scoff.

He simply grins as the last of the green mist fades from the air.

"True."

''''''''''''''''''''

The look on your friends' faces when they walked through the doors of Johnson High School almost made you burst out laughing.

"So much glitter," Tony mutters, utterly horrified as a group of about twenty teenage girls and two boys dressed in identical red and black sparkly outfits walk past, their flags and rifles cradled in their arms. Each girl's hair is pulled into a perfect bun and their faces are haughty and proud, done up in mascara, eyeshadow, and lipstick.

You glance at the paper signs on the walls and notice that the group is heading towards the warmup area.

"Good luck!" you call to them as they pass. "I love your uniforms!"

Several of them turn to grin at you, thanking you as they walk past. As soon as they're past you, several of them lean over and begin whispering to each other, amazed at how the _Avengers_ are there to see the competition. Their instructor snaps at them to focus in and they all quiet, schooling their features and returning their eyes to the front.

"What was that about?" Bucky asks, looking at you curiously.

You shrug. "It's good showmanship to wish another group good luck when they're getting ready to go on. It's also good to complement another group if you like their costumes. Oh, and Stark," you turn to grin at the genius, who still looks a bit queasy, "there's a lot more where that came from. Come on, the performance area is this way."

You lead the others through the halls, past several more groups as they move from place to place, preparing for their performance. Some groups are drumlines, some twirlers, and some color guards.

"Why do they wear no shoes?" Loki asks as you pass another group of girls dressed in flowing white dresses with their hair hanging loose. These ones carry batons instead of flags, marking them as a twirling group.

"See that thing that they're pulling?" you ask, pointing to what looks like a folded up tarp on top of a cart. "That's their floor. Every group has one. It's basically a huge mat that covers most of the gymnasium. Most of them are colored to match the group's show theme. If a dance group were to wear regular shoes on their floor, they would ruin it."

"It looks heavy," Steve comments.

"Yeah, it is," you reply. "The one that we had was about three hundred pounds. After each performance, you have to drop everything and fold that thing up, then lift it onto your shoulders and carry it out of the gym to make room for the next group. Most groups have more than twenty people sharing the burden, but we only had about fifteen."

"Man, I do not envy you guys," Sam says with a shake of his head.

"Hey, (f/n), I thought you said that this is a _color guard_ competition. What's with the drums?" Tony asks as another group passes you, this one mostly composed of boys lugging a wide variety of percussion equipment.

"Well, technically it's an indoor ensemble competition. That means that indoor drum lines, twirling groups, and color guards are all welcome to compete."

You finally arrive at the gym, but the doors are closed. A small crowd waits outside and you can hear a song that you've never heard before echoing inside. Every once in a while, the crowd inside bursts into appreciative applause. The last note rings out and the doors open, allowing a great wave of cheering and clapping to flow over you as you step into the gym. The applause dies down as you find a row of empty seats at the very top, where your wings won't bother anyone behind you. Bucky, Steve, and Loki sit to your right while Sam and Tony sit to your left.

Steve nods appreciatively as the next group pulls their floor out to its full length and begins to prepare its props and equipment.

"They're very coordinated," he comments as they rush back and forth, setting their equipment and getting into their positions. This group is comprised entirely of girls with long, straightened hair flowing over their shoulders. They each are wearing tights and rust-, purple-, and cream-colored dresses with uneven layered skirts. Their floor is patterned with red and pink triangles and in the back, a row of fabric props have been set up, each in the shape of a triangle, like a mountain range.

"Just wait until they actually start," you reply, "I think this is a professional group," you comment, noting how most of the members seem to be older than your average high schooler.

The final girl positions the final flag and a heavy, anticipating silence falls as everyone waits for the judges to ready themselves. Half of the girls are sitting on the ground, their legs straight out in front of them. The other half have taken up positions next to them, their heads bowed.

Finally, the announcer picks up his mic and addresses the patiently waiting group. "The judges are ready... Is the guard ready?"

In perfect synchronization, the standing half raise their heads to stare at the crowd, each looking determined and confident.

"Ok, that's slightly unnerving," Bucky mutters from the seat to your right.

You giggle and shush him, reaching out to bump him with your wing.

The announcer's voice once again crackles over the speakers. "Performing their 2016 program 'Rise Up', Tournament Indoor Association is proud to present… The Classics!" You cheer and whoop along with everyone else, quieting quickly as you eagerly await the start of the show.

 _You're broken down and tired_

As one, the women on the floor spin into a dance, their hair flying out in beautiful curtains and their skirts billowing out, creating waves and swirls of motion across the floor.

 _Of living life on a merry go round_

If you could capture pure grace, you're convinced that this is what it would look like. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart contracts in your chest as you watch the beautiful beginning. Your friends have similar reactions at they watch the girls spin across the floor.

 _And you can't find the fighter_

 _But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out_

 _And move mountains_

In one corner of the floor, a girl leaps through the air and is caught by her comrades, raising her up in one smooth motion.

 _We gonna walk it out_

 _And move mountains_

In the opposite corner, three women appear with brown and gold flags. The others are struck by how the flags swoop and soar around the women as they deftly manipulate the poles. Soon, more have joined them with flags while about half of them continue to dance.

 _And I'll rise up_

 _I'll rise like the day_

 _I'll rise up_

 _I'll rise unafraid_

 _I'll rise up_

 _And I'll do it a thousand times again_

Several of the dancers take up sabers, which look like long curved swords. Sam has the urge to ask you if they're dangerous, but he doesn't dare interrupt the performance. His breath freezes as they are suddenly tossed high into the air, only to be caught perfectly by their throwers. The crowd erupts into brief applause, hollering in appreciation.

The rest of the dancers quickly grab rifles. The ones that you used to use had basically been two-by-fours that had been cut and sanded into the correct shape, then painted. These ones aren't that much different. The women expertly flick them into the air, where to spin higher and higher before falling back to earth and into their wielders' hands with an audible snap. You whoop appreciatively as the entire group pauses, a note ringing out in the air.

 _When the silence isn't quiet_

 _And it feel like it's getting hard to breath_

The flag spinners disappear behind the props as the rifles and sabers remain, once again tossing their deadly, beautiful instruments high into the air and catching to ecstatic applause. The sabers hurry to join the others behind the props as the rifles remain, their backs straight and their expressions fierce. Their hands fly up as one, sending their rifles high into the air before coming down once again with another satisfying snap. Suddenly, the others are streaming out from behind the props, this time with purple striped flags.

 _And I'll rise up_

 _I'll rise like the day_

 _I'll rise up_

 _I'll rise unafraid_

Their movements are in perfect sync and it looks as if a sunset has come alive on the floor, undulating and rising in waves. More women appear with rifles and they soon pair off with the flags, tossing high over their partners' heads and dancing around each other with ease. You are well aware of the fact that one botched catch, one mistake, could easily mean a serious concussion for one of these girls.

 _All we need_

 _All we need is hope_

 _And for that we have each other_

 _And for that we have each other_

Suddenly, you notice a lone dancer dancing and weaving between the flags and rifles around her, seemingly without fear as she leaps and spins between the deadly artists.

You're suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of loss as you remember your old group and the faith that you had had in your friends. You had complete trust in them, to the point that they could have tossed a flag directly up and over your head without you batting an eye. You remember conversing with them while practicing tosses, standing only feet away from your friends. You had entrusted your safety with them and theirs with you. Your relationship with them had been very similar to the one that you now have with the Avengers.

 _I'll rise up_

 _I'll rise like the day_

 _I'll rise up_

 _In spite of the ache_

In the center of the floor, a lone woman executes a perfect rifle toss, completing what must be at least seven revolutions. You whoop, clapping along with the other spectators as your friends grin at your reaction. Bucky glances at you and his heart sours at the look of pure joy radiating from your face. He suddenly wishes that he had brought a camera so that he could capture this moment and keep it forever. He resolves to bring you to more of these events just to see this look on your face. Maybe next time he'll actually be able to use the word 'date'.

 _I will rise a thousand times again_

The floor clears as most of the girls swirl to the sides and front of the floor, kneeling at regular intervals until only two remain in the center of the floor, one with a flag and one with a rifle. Each perform a single, perfect toss, their equipment traveling high into the air as if it weighs nothing.

 _And we'll rise up_

 _High like the waves_

 _We'll rise up_

 _In spite of the ache_

Suddenly, the girls who were kneeling ascend to their feet, purple and gold flags grasped in their hands. The girls move into a grid and the flags seem to float as they whip and fly around them, periodically flying into the air as one and suspending there for a moment, a single beautiful moment, as if time itself had stopped to watch the performance.

 _We'll rise up_

 _And we'll do it a thousand times again_

The women split down the middle, moving to the back and front of the floor to gracefully set their flags down before beginning to once again dance, pouring pride and soul into every movement. If you didn't know better, you would say that they performed effortlessly, their arms and legs moving in graceful arcs. As the last note hangs suspended in the air, like a sunset, the entire group slowly raises their hands to the sky, their heads thrown back in triumph as their chests heave from the exertion.

The crowd erupts in applause and the spell over the performers breaks. Suddenly, they are a disturbed ant's nest, pushing their equipment off the floor as they prepare to fold it. Tony shakes his head in amazement.

"That was incredible. It was like watching living fireworks."

"Wow, Tony, I didn't know that you could be so poetic," you laugh as you lean forward to see him around Sam. The billionaire has the exact same expression as when he first saw your wings: shocked and amazed.

"In this case, I will have to agree with Stark," Loki says from your other side. "Asgard has many beautiful dancers and performers, but I have never seen anything of this kind before."

"Did you really used to do that, (f/n)?" Bucky asks. He knew that you could be graceful at times, but what that group had done was on a completely different level.

"Oh, I was never that good," you reply ruefully, shaking your head. "But yeah, this is what I used to do." You watch proudly as the group below hoists their floor onto their shoulders and begins to head towards the exit like one of those Chinese paper dragons.

"Why did you stop?" Steve asks.

You sigh, motioning with your right wing. "Because of these things. Every time I went to do certain basic moves, they would get in the way. I miss it a lot, but hey, nothing I can do, right?" You shrug, resigned and slightly embittered with the fact that you'll never enter one of these competitions again.

"So you can't perform with a group anymore," Bucky concludes. "I'm sorry. That must suck."

You sigh and give him a small smile. "It's okay, really. I just… I miss it."

"The judges are ready. Is the guard ready?" the announcer asks.

Bucky and the others nod, understanding. They had all been forced to give up things that they loved at one point or another.

"Well, no use dwelling on the past," Bucky says with a shrug. "Although I would have loved to watch you perform. I can imagine that you were a very beautiful firework." He grins, taking his eyes off of your blushing face in order to stare at Stark, who scowls.

"Whatever, Barnes," he growls. You shush him, a content smile taking over your face as you turn your attention to the group below. They burst into motion, and the performers once again steals your breath and your heart, spinning through your vision like living fireworks.

''''''''''''''''''''

A few days later, you're standing under the vaulted ceiling of the gym as you whale on a punching bag, your wings flaring and tensing with every movement.

Behind you, you hear the elevator doors ding open. You continue to land blows on the bag, but divert some of your attention to the person… no, people entering the room. One of your favorite games is figuring out who people are from sound alone. You hear the whir and click of machinery, so one of them must be Bucky. You can also hear the sound of metal rubbing against cardboard, so Bucky must be carrying something. A package, maybe? You turn your attention to the footsteps of the person beside him as they make their way towards you. The footfalls seem to be just as heavy as Bucky's, if not heavier, so that must mean…

"Hey, Steve! Hey, Bucky!" you call without looking behind you as you let loose a flurry of punches. "What's up?"

You hear them pause before Bucky's low chuckle reverberated through the room, causing a small flutter in your chest.

"That never ceases to amaze me," Steve states as you turn to grin at them. Your eyes widen and a look of puzzlement takes over your face as you see the long, thin cardboard box in Bucky's bionic hand. The thing is at least five feet long and it immediately captures your curiosity.

"What's in the box," you ask as you pick up a towel from a nearby bench and wipe the sweat from your face. Bucky proudly sets the box on the bench, and he and Steve smile mysteriously as he motions towards it.

"Go ahead. Open it."

You glance between them suspiciously, but your curiosity overtakes your hesitation and you carefully pry the lid off the box. You gasp as you catch sight of the contents. Looking up to briefly and excitedly grin at your friends, you reach into the box and reverently pulling out a flag with a beautiful blue swirling pattern. The pole is aluminum, just like the ones that you used to spin with. You had heard that PVC could be lighter, but you like the fact that it has some weight in your hands. It feels a bit awkward after three years of not holding one, but you step away from your friends and experimentally spin it, doing a few drop spins and a thumb flip. As you hold it, you can feel your eyes starting to prickle, so you quickly set it down and advance on Bucky, throwing your arms and wings around him.

He chuckles, arms encircling you as you mumble into his shoulder, "Thank you." You release him and give Steve the same treatment, almost at a loss for words. You pull back and smile, wiping a stray tear off your cheek.

"I really don't know what to say, you guys," you say, indescribably happy as you turn and retrieve the flag from the floor. "It's beautiful."

"Can we see you do a few tosses?" Bucky asks. He smiles at you as you almost lazily flip and spin the flag, watching it ripple through the air.

You nod slowly. "Sure. I think I still have a pretty good handle on horizontals. You might want to stand back, though." Becky and Steve step away as you move into an open space where you won't hit any equipment and move the flag so that it's behind your back and wings. You hold it parallel to the line of your shoulders and the floor, the flag hanging down on your right side. In one deft movement, you move the flag upwards and to the left, punching your hand towards the sky and letting go to allow it to spin upwards, parallel to the floor, like the blades of a helicopter. The flag hangs suspended in the air for a moment before dropping back down to earth. Steve flinches a bit, thinking that it's going to hit your head as it spins, but you calmly catch it as it drops down in front of you.

"Perfect," Bucky states, grinning.

You smile a bit and shrug. "I could've given it a bit more height. I'm still a bit rusty." You toss it again and this time it travels higher, still managing to spin just the right amount in order to miss your head on the way back down.

"Do you know any others?" Steve asks.

"Well, of course I know others," you scoff. "There are some that I can't do because of my wings, but I can still do most of them."

You hold the flag out in front of you and once again toss it into the air, although this time it's perpendicular instead of parallel to the floor. The flag travels so high that it almost crashes into the rafters before landing back in your hands with a satisfying slap. You grin as Bucky and Steve applaud.

"I'll have to be careful not to hit the ceiling," you laugh as you set it on the floor again and walk over to the people who had given you so much.

As you wing-hug your friends again, you're suddenly hit with a moment of perspective. Every trial and tribulation that you encountered, every mean-spirited comment, every lost friend and family member led you to this moment, to these friends, to this family.

Maybe growing wings hadn't been such a bad thing after all.

 **(A/N: So, what do you guys think? Reviews are greatly appreciated! I want to hear what you guys would want in a sequel, this time with some Bucky/reader action. Feel free to PM me if you feel like it! I might even write some smut if you guys express any interest in that sort of thing. ;) But seriously, it's my opinion that** _ **everyone**_ **should attend at least one color guard or marching band competition in their lifetime. If you guys know of one in your area, go see it! There is nothing better than seeing these guys live and in person, where you can see their expressions, hear the snaps and cracks of the equipment, and feel the music resonating in your bones!)**


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